


Everybody Wants to (have) A Cat

by AngeNoir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Consent Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dubious Consent, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: Jack created his cat cafe for rescue catgirls and catboys, in hopes they'd get adopted eventually by good owners. But this one... this one he might keep.





	Everybody Wants to (have) A Cat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliencupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/gifts).



> I hope this works for you! I had a lot of fun writing it. :D
> 
> NOTE: the consent issues stem from the fact that in this world catpeople are on the same mentality as teenagers, but having sex with human adults who take advantage of the fact that catpeople are in fact pets and cannot really say no. additionally, in the story there is (glossed over, but mentioned) the fact that the cafe owner allows humans to book some of his catpeople to have sex with them.

“Why do you have _that_ one?”

Jack looked up from where he had been restocking the pastries in the display. “I’m sorry?”

“ _That_ one.” The woman pointed to the back of the room, where one of the more ‘troublesome’ ‘boys lounged near the heater. Even though the café felt swelteringly hot, there were still two catboys who huddled near the heater.

Outside, it wasn’t exactly sleeting, but it was desperately trying to get there. Late November in the city was hell on any type of transportation, and Jack was very happy his apartment was above the café. As it was, each ‘boy had their own cot on the third floor, and Jack’s apartment was on the fourth. The tiny building had been ridiculously expensive, but thankfully catboy cafés were all the rage now, and clients would actually have to reserve a table or space to guarantee their entrance.

It helped that Jack had designed his café, Mugs & Paws Coffee, to work with the local shelters to take in catboys. Catpeople in general, actually, though it almost always the catboys that got dumped in alleys or off at hospitals. Most people didn’t mind catgirls, and catgirls were far more accepted, but jealous husbands, sons, and boyfriends often had issues with catboys and would regularly remove catboys from the household. Never mind that it cost a huge amount of money to buy a catperson in the first place, or that catpeople did not have any ability to care for themselves in the wild.

So. Jack had come up with the idea of a ‘cat café,’ only for the many catpeople that got abandoned and sent to holding centers until the scientists could figure out what to do with them. Instead of sitting in cages in the hospital, or at a vet, or even in the pound (the places these ‘people got dropped off were horrendous, sometimes, let alone their physical condition), Jack would bring them into his café. He only had to feed them and keep them healthy; the bank owned this place, but he was mainly running a non-profit and received numerous donations in order to home and feed the catpeople he had. He was almost at capacity, however, though even if he had been at capacity, he would have brought in the ‘boy the woman was pointing at.

Jack had named the ‘boy Alex, because Alex had been nonverbal when Jack had picked him up from the pound and had remained nonverbal to this day. Alex was really hard to see – both because he had crushed himself into the corner and because he blended , but the other catboy sleeping by the heater was Jim, and Jim was both one of the youngest catboys he had, and the sweetest.

Alex, on the other hand… had issues.

Still, Jack had a soft spot for Alex. He didn’t know his story, but the catboy’s left ear was torn and a scar was over his left eye – in which he was blind. There was some scarring on his arms and legs, and a burn scar on his shoulder.

He was prickly, vicious when cornered, and so studiously aloof that it was almost comical. Jack adored him.

“Ah, that one. He’s a rescue, like all of them are rescues. There’s a lot of other catboys to cuddle with or pet if you want, ma’am,” Jack said easily, standing up and dusting his hands. “They’ve got their own personalities, you know, so there are other ones who are a lot more amiable. Jenny, over there; she’s super sweet. Or Toby – he’s up in the rafters, but you can buy some nip and coax him down. He’s really playful—”

“That one hissed at me and my daughter when we tried to pet him!” the woman snapped.

Jack kept up his affable smile, even as he mentally rolled his eyes and did a quick check to make sure none of the catpeople were paying attention to him, and that his employees were circulating through the store and keeping things calm. “Well, ma’am, we do hand out waivers; catpeople can be dangerous if treated harshly or if they are pursued when they expressed dislike. They’re very much like cats that way. Hence, _cat_ people. Additionally, you understand that this is not like any of the rumors you may have heard; we are very big on our human clientele respecting our pets.”

“You shouldn’t have such a vicious animal in your establishment,” the woman insisted. Jack noticed one of the clingier catboys – Carl – start to drift his way, and he winced a little. He didn’t want any of the catpeople riled up because of an irate customer who didn’t know how to recognize the signs of a catperson that wanted to be left alone.

“Well, ma’am, you are of course free to fill out a complaint form, and I am sorry that you were nearly injured by our latest rescue,” he said, and half-turned from her as Carl draped himself over the counter and rolled onto his back, spine arched and ears twitching, looking at Jack upside-down, hands stretched towards Jack. Since Carl was about the size of a twelve-year-old boy, he took up pretty much the whole counter, and it couldn’t have been comfortable for him to flop like that.

“We’ve talked about this, Carl,” Jack murmured, tickling his fingers under Carl’s chin. Carl’s cat-eyes turned to slits, the barest hints of bright blue peeking out, and he purred gently under Jack’s hand, collar and tag jingling against his throat. “C’mon, off the counter.”

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?!” the woman demanded. “You know we had to reserve our time to visit and it’s very inconsiderate to have animals here that could be dangerous!”

Jack turned his head back towards her, voice deceptively mild as he explained in his best customer service voice, “Ma’am, they are not animals. They can speak, and reason to a degree, and communicate clearly. Not only that, but we are a rescue shelter. Every catperson you meet has had their ups and downs, and you can’t blame them for having bad days. Again, I’m sorry that you were frightened by our newest rescue, but it’s only been about a week since he came to us, and he’s still settling in. If you notice—” Jack very pointedly looked around the fairly large, open space, the various ladders and towers and hidey-holes placed around, the blankets and pillows and scratching posts everywhere, and the many, many other catpeople cuddling with other clients, or playing with one another, “—there’s a very large number you can choose from. We are actually almost at full capacity; we are taking care of forty-seven catpeople at this time. There are easily twenty to thirty catpeople you could still interact with. Is your daughter still upset over his behavior?”

Carl overbalanced, and ended up falling off the counter and onto his head with an almost graceless flop, and, grumbling to himself, picked himself up and cuddled up against Jack’s side.

“N – my daughter did not want to stay down here with that _creature_ ,” the woman snapped.

That normally meant the daughter was upstairs, with the ‘special’ catpeople – the ones who had been trained as pleasure slaves, and were interested in continuing that work. Catpeople were very self-indulgent, and Jack’s second floor was where he made most of the money he needed to keep all of the catpeople healthy and fed. After all, donations may be generous, but that money almost all went into the building and upkeep of the furniture and food.

In any case, that probably meant the daughter had been the one to book this trip, if she was upstairs. People had to book an upstairs appointment – no walk-ins, like downstairs – and they had to be carefully screened. In any case, it meant that the mother down here was less important and he could afford to turn his back on her and focus on Carl that was currently trying to climb up his back, finish laying out the rest of the baked goods and bring out the clean mugs.

“Hey, Jack?”

Jack looked up to see one of his employees, Lana, leaning against the display case.

“I think JoJo is feeling a bit under the weather; she got up into the cave and she hasn’t come down since we opened this morning.”

Jack sighed. He had hoped that JoJo was merely feeling sulky yesterday, because she was exceedingly tactile and if she was sick, she most likely had spread it around to not only the other catpeople but his employees as well.

Oh well; he hadn’t had to call his doctor-on-retainer in the past two months. He was overdue.

***

That customer wasn’t the norm. His café was unique enough that it was in high demand; most, if not all, of the people who came through his doors left happy. The first floor, of course, was for people who just wanted to cuddle with catpeople – brush them, or feed them, or just interact with a class of pet that normally only the super-rich could even say they saw, let alone interact with. They always tried to accept at least twenty walk-ins a day for the first floor, though those spots filled up fast. The second floor was booked months, practically half a year, in advance; Jack was very big on making sure that if people honestly wanted to have an hour or more in a private room with a catperson, they had to come into an appointment well in advance to meet the catpeople who were open to spending hours in bed with humans. They had to pick out a catperson in advance, spend some time with them. Jack really wanted his rescues to be _safe_ , first and foremost – people booking an hour of bedsport had to prove they were clean and had to sign a bunch of paperwork to make sure that they would not irreparably harm any of the catpeople.

And there were some catpeople who loved the intimacy and fun of the sex, and others who didn’t. A lot of catpeople, after all, were rich people’s playthings – they were trained in the sexual arts, for the most part – and not all had enjoyed their original master’s or mistress’s attentions, and did not want to have those kinds of attentions continued.

When he could finally wipe the last table, flip the last chair, and lock down the apartment, the catpeople had already retreated up to the third floor, their private area, to eat and drink and relax. Well, not all of them. Tia was sprawled out in one of the hammocks hanging from the ceiling, her tail twitching as she watched – as she always did, every day – him close down the shop. Rayray was humming to himself as he just rolled in the pillows, hugging ‘his’ toy to his chest – he loved the big stuffed bear, and would fight with Damon over it all the time.

And, of course, Alex.

Alex was flopped out like a dead rug, head upside down and watching Jack with his one good eye. His tail was flicking and twitching, though it was hard to see – Alex _really_ blended in well with shadows, and didn’t even have any white spots or highlights to make it easy to see him.

When he finished, he turned around, hands on his hips, and smiled at Rayray. “Hey there, buddy, you have a good day today? Had fun?”

“Yeah,” Rayray hummed, nuzzling into the bear.

“You gonna head up to eat? Sleep on a nice bed?”

“Mm-mm,” Rayray said, shaking his head in the negative.

Jack sighed, shaking his head, and bent down to ruffle Rayray’s floppy brown hair, stroking down Rayray’s cheek. Rayray’s pink tongue peeked out, licking a bit at his lips. “Okay, buddy, well, stay away from the windows, yeah?”

He popped up from his position and put his hand up to the hammock, where Tia was hanging, and she ran her fingers over the back of his hand and down his arm a little, her little claws – dulled, because he trimmed all of their nails as often as he could – scratching over his skin, her light skin making his look so much darker. She didn’t move, of course – she was comfortable, and easily one of the laziest of their catpeople.

Then, he moved to the back, where Alex was curled around the heater. “Hey there, beautiful, heard you had a kinda rough day, huh?” he murmured, dropping down to squat by Alex. He put his hand out, waiting for Alex to make the first move.

Alex was… different. He hated being around humans, but he also insisted on being in the same room as Jack as often as he could. He was never really comfortable around other catpeople – he tolerated Carl and Tadashi, the two youngest of their catpeople, and Romano and TJ, the two oldest.

But Alex followed Jack around. He slunk around in the shadows, in Jack’s apartment or down here in the café or whenever Jack would go up to the third floor. So Jack didn’t worry too much when Alex merely regarded Jack with a highly unimpressed look; he stood up and moved to the stairs in the back.

Behind him, soft pads alerted him to Alex following him, and Jack smiled.

***

He did a quick spot-check on the second floor, making sure the cleaning crew was having no trouble with any of the catpeople – sometimes, especially after hours, the ‘boys or ‘girls would wander up to sleep in the beds, making it difficult for the crew to strip the sheets and put new bedding down – and then up to the third floor, visually checking in with other rescues he had. They lived more or less independently, fed themselves and cared for themselves, but Jack still liked to keep an eye on them. They were smart, relatively speaking, never growing mentally much more than a teenager, and so knew enough to keep themselves fed and healthy, but there were some very young among them, so Jack still kept watch. But they were fine, just like any other day, and it was late, and he was hungry. So he continued up the stairs, to his apartment, hearing the footsteps creep behind him. He didn’t close the door – he wouldn’t, even for his own privacy, because his rescues might need him. And catpeople had no concept of personal privacy. More than once Jack had pushed back his shower curtain to see Tito or Rex or Lexi sitting on his vanity, swinging their feet and slowly swishing their tail. He’d had a few catpeople sneak into his bed, though they normally stayed away now that Alex had taken to sleeping under the bed.

In his apartment, he brought out some meat and vegetables, cooked them up and some rice. Alex had come into the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on top of the kitchen island. He was rolling an orange back and forth, refusing to meet Jack’s gaze.

When he went to lie down that night, lights out, it took Alex less than two minutes to climb up onto the mattress. That was new enough that Jack started to sit up, curious. “Alex, what—?”

“You never touch me.”

That must have been Alex speaking, but his voice was hoarse, rough. Maybe with disuse, maybe additional scarring. Jack blinked into the darkness, barely able to see the green shine of Alex’s eye in the room – the rest of Alex blended in perfectly, disappearing into the shadows since Alex eschewed, like most catpeople, clothing of any kind.

(Yes, even down on his first floor, most of his catpeople were naked and saw no problem with that; it was why humans had to sign waivers to step into the store, let alone to interact with the cats. The windows were tinted, but Rayray liked to press up against them randomly, when people would pass by, and surprise or shock them. It was hard to keep Rayray away from the windows, but they were trying a new training regimen.)

“Alex?”

“You called me that,” Alex rumbled, something like a growl deep in his throat. “You called me that, but you put no collar on me. I see, every other Person wears collar. Even Human People wear your collar. Just not me.”

Jack licked his lips. “You – you were very alone. I wanted you to feel safe.”

“I have no tie here. No safety. Without your collar.”

“You want a collar? From me?” Jack asked, trying to clarify, surprised and shocked and nervously excited. “Now?”

Alex’s eyes disappeared – a blink, or he turned his head – and then they returned. “Not now?”

“It’s very late. But if you need a collar—”

“Tomorrow?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. Sure.”

There was nothing more, and Jack shifted, squinting. “Is… there something more?”

Alex heaved a sigh. “You never touch me.”

Quietly, Jack reached out and put his fingers to Alex’s throat, drawing the pads of his fingers lightly over Alex’s throat and over his collarbone.

Alex exhaled with a soft sigh, eyes closing, pulse thrumming underneath Jack’s fingertips.

“I thought you had no voice,” Jack murmured. “I found you in the pound, with all those scars… I was scared for you.”

“I know,” Alex replied, eyes still closed. “But never scared _of_ me.”

“Never,” Jack murmured.

Slowly, Alex moved on top of Jack, and Jack carefully reached up to run a hand over Alex’s side, feeling the soft hairs there that covered Alex’s skin. Like all catpeople, Alex’s eyes were slanted, and the hair on the top of his head traveled down like a mane down his spine out into his tail, a light dusting over his back and sides and thighs.

Alex shivered, a low purr rising in his throat, and he dropped his upper chest to nuzzle his nose against the underside of Jack’s jaw. “You never touch _other_ People like this.”

Jack wasn’t sure what Alex was referring to, but he had dreams like this, dreams of Alex ever since he got Alex and he’d been arrested by the sheer intensity of the catboy, become charmed by the stubborn and intractable nature of Alex’s character. He slowly laid all the way back down, letting Alex stretch out over him, and Alex’s purr grew deeper, throatier, tongue lapping at the pulse in Jack’s throat.

Jack was dressed, of course – in boxers, but dressed, as compared to Alex, who was completely naked and quite obviously interested in the activity. Jack didn’t have lube – well, he did, in the bathroom, but he didn’t want to go and get it, and so he interrupted Alex’s tongue’s exploration of Jack’s face to flip them over, pinning Alex beneath him.

At that, Alex stilled, both eyes opening, his good eye pinning Jack with its intensity.

“Is this alright?” Jack asked, sliding his boxers off his hips with one hand as he hemmed Alex’s thighs in with his knees. “You good?”

Alex licked his lips, that shock of pink against his white canines startling. The green in his eyes glittered, and he rasped, “You call me a nice name. You treat me kindly.”

“That’s right,” Jack said absently, hooking the elastic of his boxers beneath his cock and balls, then leaning down to slide his cock against Alex’s cock.

With a sharp inhale, Alex’s hands moved to Jack’s wrists – not tight, not really _restricting_ , but Jack leaned down with a soft shush, pressing kisses against Alex’s lush lips and sharp cheekbones. “It’s okay, sweetheart. God. If you’re not sure, let me know, but this is – this is amazing. And I will treat you right, I promise.”

Slowly, Alex nodded. “I trust you, master. You are… good. You treat me well.”

“Good, good,” Jack said, so eager, so close to his dream, and he cupped his hand around his and Alex’s cocks.

Alex sucked in a breath, arching under Jack’s body, a purr rumbling through his chest, creating beautiful vibrations that ran up and down Jack’s spine. Dry-mouthed, caught up in the dark of the room, the slip of cotton sheets around their body, their hard breaths resounding through the quiet of the room.

Alex let out a sharp huff, hips bucking up, and his purr intensified, a deeper rumble in his chest, gaining an almost desperate edge as Jack’s thumb spread precum down both of their dicks, using a firm grip the way he liked it. Then, suddenly, Alex’s hands came up to Jack’s back, nails – sharp; Jack hadn’t clipped Alex’s nails yet – digging into the muscles of Jack’s shoulder blades, rubbing his body all over the front of Jack’s body.

“Oh, goodness,” Jack breathed, air hot and moist as it curled between their bodies, “Oh, _Alex_ , kitty, I love you, I love this.”

Alex let out a high keen, thrashing against Jack’s front, and then he was spilling forth, coating their bellies.

Jack was close, _so close_ , and he urged Alex up, turned him around so he was on his front, his lovely back arched and tail whipping between their bodies, muscles lax and body oh-so-pliable. With the added wetness from Alex’s release, Jack slid his cock between Alex’s thighs and rutted forward, petting over Alex’s flanks, skin slapping against Alex’s, Alex purring and purring so relaxed and accommodating, _so close he could feel it—_

Jack’s body seized, and he came, painting the inside of Alex’s thighs, cock nudging up behind Alex’s balls. He fell heavily against Alex’s back, panting, and absently he scritched the nape of Alex’s neck.

“ _Such_ a handsome boy,” Jack gasped, tucking Alex against him like Alex was a teddy bear. “Does this mean you’ll play nice with the other humans? Do you want to spend some bedtime with them too?”

“ _Only you_ ,” Alex muttered, voice heavy and sated. “No others. Just master. And collar.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, feeling incredibly lucky to have happened upon this stray. “Tomorrow you’ll get your collar. But you really ought to stop swiping at guests.”

There was nothing but a soft grumble, and Alex spin in the cage of Jack’s arms, cuddling close, body vibrating with that purr that made all of Jack’s worry disappear. It wasn’t a purr to make others happy, or to express happiness – it was a purr that expressed deep contentment.

Jack was selfishly glad Alex only wanted him. Curling the catboy to his chest, he stroked down Alex’s spine and fell asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
